


Secrets of the Forest

by Trams



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Falling In Love, First Time, Folklore, Interspecies Romance, M/M, Nudity, Romance, i don't think they've even heard of clothes, neither of them wears clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 20:18:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13795524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trams/pseuds/Trams
Summary: A spirit of the forest meets a spirit of water and they fall in love





	Secrets of the Forest

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this amazing art: https://whereverigobillygoes.tumblr.com/post/170183630444/plantsflowers-billy-and-water-goody. Loosely inspired. I take a lot of liberties, especially with Goody who I decided to not make a merman and instead is inspired somewhat by Scandinavian folklore. And I take some liberties with dryads as well... Everything is very vague, I'm not very specific in the fic. There is a risk this is a confusing mess...

The first night Billy thought he must have imagined the sound, but he heard it again the following night, and by the third night he was sure of it; he could hear the rythmic sound of hooves running through the forest. Except, there shouldn’t be any hooves at all. This deep in the forest, in a place not even humans could be seen, there certainly should not be a horse running past every night. Not here where the trees grew so close together they formed walls of leaves and bark, a maze of trees with only the smallest places to pass between them, definitely no roads, not even paths to traverse.

During the day after the third night Billy tried to head in the direction he had heard the horse, but no grass, no bushes, no trees were disturbed, he couldn’t find a single hoof print. Perhaps he wasn’t in the right spot, or perhaps the horse simply left no trace – or he was truly imagining it and in actual fact was slowly going insane.

He returned to his oak, running on feet so light he barely touched the ground.

His tree stood on a small mound surrounded by smaller saplings, trees without a guardian so far, years away in fact from being mature enough for one. Billy was unsure how he would adjust to being surrounded by others one day. He had always been a bit distant, in every possible way not just by actual physical distance between his tree and the others living much closer to each other. None of the trees surrounding Billy’s had guardians, because not all trees were given one. Billy wasn’t entirely sure how it all worked, he didn’t remember.

The grass around his oak was lush and green. Flowers in the colors of the rainbows he saw when he lay in the top of his oak after a rainstorm, were hidden among the green grass; a patch of lily of the valley growing in the shade of one of the surrounding trees filling the air with a soft sweet smell. In one of the trees standing outside the circle of saplings, a tall beech tree, a family of thrushes had made their nest, the recently hatched birds making a lot of noise whenever their parent returned with food.

Billy looked over his tree, walking around it and then climbing up and down, looking at the leaves and the bark, and the new branches, nothing more than twigs, but couldn’t see any sign of disease, and so reassured that his tree was alright, and as such he should be too, he took his place on one of the wider older branches, lying down to rest.

On the fifth night he decided he would try and follow the horse. He suspected it was this trait about him, more than the actual distance that made the others leave him alone. Curiosity was not exactly uncommon among his kind, but while the others had theirs kept in check by shyness and caution; Billy had always been very daring, which let him stray further from his tree than was perhaps advisable, but nobody ever came this deep into the woods, and the others may find Billy a bit odd, but they wouldn’t knowingly harm a tree, even one that wasn’t their own, so he knew he could leave his tree.

He hid among the branches of leaves of an elm and waited. He dozed off and almost missed it, but woke up just in time to see the large white horse, almost glowing its fur such a bright white color, disappear among the trees. Billy jumped from the tree branch landing on the ground and took off after it. The horse didn’t have much of a headstart, but even though Billy could clearly hear its hooves, it didn’t ever seem to actually touch the ground, and it was a great deal faster than Billy, who up till this point had been quite proud of how fast he was. At first he would occasionally catch the odd glimpse of the back of the glowing white horse, but soon he fell behind, and after a while even the sound faded away until he could no longer hear hooves at all and instead the air filled with the song of many nightingales. He continued to run forward though, never losing energy, and the horse had been running straight forward, or at least as straight as possible, occasional detour to get around a wall of trees but then carrying on forward.

He could see just as well in the dark as he could in the light, and as such it took him awhile to realize the sun had started to rise, and he slowed down to catch his breath. There was a pull deep in his gut, his tree tugging at him, the connection trying to bring him back, but while he was somewhat tired after running all night, the curiosity still burned in his chest.

Straightening up again he heard the strangest thing ahead of him. There was a soft sound like that of running water, but that wasn’t what had caught his attention. No, what had caught his attention was the music. Frowning a little he continued, this time walking and paying more attention to his surroundings.

All around him the trees changed, the smell of elms, beeches and oaks changing to the mustier smell of pine and fir. The ground he walked over no longer covered in soft grass and rich soil. Now he stepped on pine needles and rocks, gnarly tree roots growing in between and over rocks sticking out of the ground.

He slipped down a short slope and came to a wall of fir trees. Pushing aside the branches carefully he looked past the trees and out at a clearing, the trees forming a half circle around a large pond. Green grass and flowers covering the ground until the edge of the pond. At the opposite end from Billy was a low cliff face, and sparkling water cascaded down the rocks and into the pond. 

What truly caught Billy’s eyes though was the being seated on a large rock by the pond, a being stark naked and playing on a violin. As Billy stepped out onto the grass the man on the rock stopped and turned. Billy’s breath caught in his throat. It was a young man, though Billy knew better than to try and judge age based on appearance on beings such as them, brown wavy hair and skin glowing in the sunshine, but it was the smile, Billy found the most captivating; joy with just a hint of mischief.

“Why hello there,” the being on the rock said, his voice melodical and clear, reminding Billy of the sound of purling water in a stream.

“I... I was following a horse,” Billy said, a little hesitant. He was the least shy of his brethren, but that wasn’t hard, and he was a little confused.

The being on the rock laughed, the sound of a babbling brook ringing out into the clearing, and Billy took a step forward drawn closer by the sound.

“You followed a horse.” The being had drawn up one leg and was resting an elbow on it, head tipped against his hand, and violin and bow dangling from his other hand as he watched Billy with captivating blue eyes.

“What are you?” Billy asked, curiosity winning as always; Red – who liked to stay in Billy’s tree during the winter before flying north again in the summers – had once asked if Billy was part cat. Not that Billy knew what he meant or what he was implying. 

The man on the rock was clearly not human, didn’t have the right aura, but he also was different to Billy, and different to the fae as well. 

“What are you?” The being asked.

“Billy,” Billy said instead of answering the actual question.

“Then, you can call me Goody.”

“Goody,” Billy tried the name in a low voice.

“You aren’t here for a fiddle I guess?” Goody asked.

Billy tilted his head to the side, eyeing Goody in slight confusion.

“No, guess not. I do that sometimes, not a lot anymore, but it used to happen,” Goody said. “People would trade their inferior fiddles for one of mine and they would in turn become the greatest musician.”

“That sounds like it would come with a catch,” Billy said, and watched Goody shrug, no longer leaning his head against his hand, he let it drop to dangle in front of him, elbow still resting on his knee.

“Most things come with some sort of catch,” Goody said.

“What is it made of?” Billy asked, because it looked to be made out of some kind of wood.

“Bone,” Goody answered. Billy raised an eyebrow.

“It looks like wood because that is what it is expected to look like,” Goody said. “You interested now.”

“I don’t think so,” Billy said, and smiled a little. “Besides I don’t have anything to trade for it.”

“Shame, oh well, will you sit and listen to a tune then?” Goody asked, lifting up the violin, resting it on his shoulder. “I am new around here, and it has been awfully lonely.”

“New?” Billy asked.

Goody pointed with the bow at the waterfall.

“I come from the north, or west, or south, or east, I wasn’t paying attention. My stream was diverted, it eventually merged with another stream and eventually I fell off that cliff and ended up here.”

“And you can’t go back?” Billy asked.

Goody shook his head, a lock of brown hair falling down over his forehead, and he pushed it back with the hand holding the bow.

“There is a fence.”

Billy nodded, and then sank down to the ground. Sitting himself down cross legged in the grass, hand softly stroking the petals of a nearby blue flower.

“This is a song I heard once. A woman sang it to the ocean, to the waves and the currents asking it to bring her love back to her.”

Goody had a good singing voice, it hit a deeper register than his speaking voice, and it was different to the singing Billy had heard before in his life. And the pauses were filled with the most heart rending violin playing which, the notes filling the clearing, and punching Billy in the chest. He placed both hands in the grass, pressing his fingers into the soft dirt, rooting himself in the earth as he closed his eyes, breathing in and letting himself be filled with the music.

Later, back in his tree again, high up among the branches his mind was still filled with the sound of the music; of Goody’s voice, and the way he sang and spoke. Every time Billy closed his eyes all he could see was Goody, and he wasn’t sure how to handle that.

“Will you be back?” Goody had asked, a hopeful tone to his voice, when Billy had been about to leave; when his tree had beckoned him back, that familiar pull deep in his gut telling him he had been gone for long enough.

“Maybe,” Billy had answered.

But now, sitting on a branch with his head tipped back against the trunk of his tree, and eyes closed he could feel the pull again. Still the same, but now in the opposite direction away from his tree, and this he definitely didn’t understand or know how to deal with.

That night he struggled to find sleep, but once he did fall asleep he slept so soundly he missed the sound of hooves.

He didn’t make a conscious decision to return to Goody’s pond, but as he ventured out for a walk the following day his feet brought him there anyway, and he sat down in the same spot as the day before, dazzled by the delighted happy smile Goody threw his way.

Day after day Billy returned to the pond. Goody would play him music, sometimes sing. Billy would listen to Goody telling stories, tall tales he had heard in his travels, but also tales he claimed he had heard from the oceans.

“The water,” Goody had said. “It’s all connected. And it tells me everything that happens in or near it.”

Billy wasn’t sure if that was really how it all worked, but then if Billy pressed his fingers as deeply as he could into the earth and focused he could sense his tree; could feel that bond that was always there, it was almost like he could touch the roots even though he wasn’t physically in touch with them. So he would just take Goody’s word for it.

Day after day he returned, and they would share stories, Billy slowly starting to share stories about the forest. About the trees and plants, the flowers in a particular clearing that only bloomed at night, but when they did filled the air with the most amazing scent. He told him about the bees and the meadow they pollinated before returning to their hives, hives bursting with honey, sweet sun warmed honey; and which hives would share as long as one was polite and asked. 

He told Goody about the animals, the fox couple with their kits building their den underneath a rock near Billy’s tree, and he told Goody about sitting on a branch watching the young foxes playing in the sun.

Day after day Billy didn’t keep count, but he returned every day.

“Your flowers,” Goody said one day. “The ones in your hair,” he clarified, and Billy tilted his head curiously. “They seem to have grown… bigger.”

Billy started to lean across the side to look down into the pond, wen he paused. Suddenly aware of the fact that he was sitting at the edge, that he was sitting only a few feet from Goody on his rock. In the beginning he knew he must have kept a distance, but with time that distance had shrunk down to nothing, but Billy hadn’t paid attention.

He looked down at the water in the pond, so still and clear it was the perfect mirror, and he noticed that the white flowers, standing out so starkly in his dark hair, did indeed appear to have grown larger. He frowned, this had never before happened. He rarely thought about the flowers, he knew most of his kind liked to braid their hair, turning their flowers into crowns, or even more elaborate styles, but Billy liked to just let his hair be. Flowing black locks and flowers left to their own devices.

He looked away from the pond, biting at his bottom lip. Another thing he did not understand, much like whatever it was growing in his chest. Something heavy and warm which made him feel happy whenever he was with Goody, and despondent when they were apart. It was completely different from the longing he felt when he was apart from his tree for a long time. This seemed to actively hurt him, but it was soothed once more whenever he saw Goody, when he saw him smile, and when he heard him laugh he felt lighter, and his heart would skip.He had never felt this way before, and he did not know what to make of it all.

He touched one of the flowers a little self consciously, before looking away from the pond and back at Goody who was watching him with curiosity written on his face.

“They don’t usually grow,” Billy said, half to himself and half to Goody who gave him a small hesitant smile.

“They are pretty,” Goody said. The thing in Billy’s chest bloomed with warmth, but he managed to stop himself from smiling, because that was just ridiculous. Instead he shrugged.

“They are a part of me.”

“They remind me of water lilies in the night,” Goody said. “In the dark, when the water in the pond I used to live in looked almost black, it was so dark, and the lilies would stand out, all bright whiteness. It was a beautiful sight.”

Goody licked his lips, and opened his mouth.

“And,” Goody stopped, and Billy watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “Nevermind.”

Billy was tempted to ask him what he had been about to say, but he felt tongue tied, and something tightening in his stomach, worry perhaps, maybe he wasn’t ready to hear it, just like Goody wasn’t ready to say, whatever it was.

Soon they moved on, Goody played a tune, and they distracted themselves. But days later Billy would think about it again.

He had to stay with the tree, the branches were drooping, and a dullness had come over the green leaves, making them look almost grey which wasn’t right. Billy may not be keeping up with the days, but he still paid attention to the seasons, and it wasn’t autumn yet. He fretted for a day, and the next day the tree had regained its usual luster, but he stayed with it for that day too. Lying on one of the lower branches, telling the tree about Goody, while missing him.

“I don’t know what is happening to me,” Billy said. “He is all I can think about. When I close my eyes I see his smile. All I dream of is his laugh and his song. My heart keeps racing and skipping beats, I am wondering if I should be concerned about a heart attack, though I’ve never heard of that happening to someone like me.” He paused, wetting dry lips. “My chest clenches when I am near him, my stomach twists whenever he looks at me, and when he smiles I forget how to breathe and sometimes I even forget how to speak.”

His tree however stayed silent, leaving Billy alone to wrestle with the new confusing feelings.

The following day after some reassuring, as well as, in his opinion, frankly inspiring words of encouragement to his tree Billy returned to Goody’s pond, only to find the clearing empty.

Billy stoppedin is track, one foot on the grass and stared at the rock where Goody usually sat and played when Billy arrived. The clearing wasn’t completely devoid of life as a two blackbirds sat in a birch and sang, a third was walking on the grass looking for something to eat, it didn’t even care about Billy walking past it as he headed towards the pond.

“Goody?” Billy called out. The birds flew away, and in the silence after their wing beats Billy called out Goody’s name once more.

He stopped next to the edge of the water, biting his lip in confusion, and a hint of worry churning in the pit of his stomach. Where was he? Every previous day when Billy had shown up Goody had been there.

At that moment something broke through the water surface in the middle of the pond, and Billy looked over at Goody shaking his head, water droplets flying through the air, and then he opened blue eyes that locked onto Billy. As soon as he saw Billy he started to smile and swam in strong strokes to the edge where Billy was standing. Staring, captivated by Goody who leaned one hand on the grassy edge and the other pushed wet hair out of his eyes, laying it slicked back.

“Billy,” Goody said, sounding happy, his smile growing even wider. Billy crouched down and started to reach out, but then hesitated. Surprised at his own movement. In all the days they had met so far, they had never touched, Billy didn’t touch strangers at all. Not that Goody was anything like a complete stranger by now, but Billy didn’t touch those of his own kind that he knew, all that often either.

“I missed you,” Goody said, crossing his arms in front of him, resting his chin on top of them. Billy sank down on his knees. He licked his lips, a nervous tick, but he didn’t think Goody could have picked up on.

“I missed you too,” Billy said. He reached out, fingertips brushing Goody’s arm. Following the path of a water droplet down the upper arm to the crook of his elbow where he stopped but continued to press his fingers against the wet skin that was warm underneath the sheen of cold water. 

He looked away from his hand and at Goody’s face, he was glancing at Billy’s hand, a crooked smile on his lips, and then he looked back at Billy, his eyes such a deep blue Billy thought he might get lost in them, he certainly wasn’t sure he could look away from them. His heart beating so hard he thought it surely could be heard by Goody as well, the warmth swelling in his chest, and he felt short of breath. He had never felt this way before, overwhelmed by these new feelings. He didn’t quite know what to do with himself, and so all he could do was look into Goody’s eyes, feeling something calm washing over him.

“Are there more of your kind?” Billy had asked once.

Goody had never specified what he was, and Billy just knew that he was different from himself, and that he obviously wasn’t human, though he seemed very human at times. Likewise Billy hadn’t felt the need to actually explain anything about his own kind. To them they just were. They were Billy and Goody and that was all that was needed.

“Yes...And no.”

Had been Goody’s answer explaining that while he knew there were others out there, they probably wouldn’t see him as a good example of their kind. And he also explained that they were too territorial to ever socialize with others of their kind.

“I’m essentially alone,” Goody had said, and looked at Billy. “Until you.”

Billy thought back to that conversation now, because his kind were sociable, being in a group, spending time with others, it was common and usual. Billy was the odd one out for preferring solitude. He’d never before missed having someone else around, and yet two days of not meeting Goody and he had started to miss him. He had been worried when he didn’t see Goody in the clearing; and then the wave of relief when he showed up.

Billy had willingly returned to spend time with Goody day after day. He liked being around Goody, in a way he had never done with anyone else. Goody made him happy, told him stories, seemed delighted when he made Billy smile and laugh. He just seemed delighted in general about Billy’s presence.

Until Goody Billy had never felt lonely, and yet Goody seemed to fill some hole Billy hadn’t known existed.

“I–” Billy started and realized he was still kneeling there at the edge of the pond, fingers still pressed against Goody’s arm, and still looking into Goody’s eyes. Goody shook himself minutely, as if coming out of a deep thought process himself.

Billy let his hand drop to the ground, looked down, and licked his bottom lip, and swallowed, his mouth and throat feeling dry.

“I like spending time with you.”

Goody smiled, a bright wide smile that could rival the sun, could probably make birds sing and flowers grow; Billy wondered if he could in fact make flowers grow and that was why the flowers in his hair seemed to grow.

“That is reassuring to hear,” Goody said. He started heaving himself up, and Billy was slow to react and found himself staring straight at Goody’s chest, wet and glistening in the sun. He shook himself out of it and backed away, out of reach as Goody sat himself on the edge, legs still in the water. He sat twisted with his upper body so he could look at Billy.

“I thought maybe you’d grown tired of me,” Goody said.

“No,” Billy protested quickly. “No, nothing like that.”

The smile he got back was smaller, but warm and fond, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly.

“Come,” Goody said. “Try the water.” Billy hesitated and then made his way back to the edge. Close enough to Goody the man could reach out and brush his fingers over Billy’s shoulder if he wanted to.

He sat and lowered his feet and legs into the water. It was surprisingly warm, moving softly against his skin when he kicked his legs. He couldn’t help smiling a little bit.

“I hope this isn’t when you reveal that this has all been a very long elaborate trick into getting me close enough for you to drown me,” Billy said. And possibly his dark sense of humor also set him apart from the others of his kind. When Goody didn’t laugh right away Billy glanced over at him, a strange expression just flitting past his face before he pulled on a mock affronted expression and protested.

“I would never!”

“It would be embarrassing,” Billy said and started smiling, not looking away from Goody. Hands on the edge of the pond, and feet kicking slowly in the water. “What with me just admitting I like spending time with you.”

Goody smiled again.

“It would be, but no, I don’t have any such plans.”

“That is of course exactly what you would say if you had such plans, as well,” Billy pointed out.

Goody let out a snort, and shook his head. When he looked back at Billy he smiled.

“You have a point. But no, I mean it. I like you– I like spending time with you too.”

Something in Billy’s stomach fluttered and he had to look away, unsure how to respond with his breath caught in his throat.

“You should swim with me,” Goody said.

Billy hesitated, biting his bottom lip for a moment before responding.

“Maybe another time.” He wasn’t looking at Goody, so missed his reaction, but Goody just said, “Well, then let’s have some music.” Billy looked over at him at the same time as Goody pulled out the violin from seemingly nothingness and started playing. An upbeat tune which made Billy’s heart soar and and he smiled, looking over at Goody.

Billy didn’t know how to swim. His mind straying back to Goody’s suggestion later that evening when Billy was back in his tree. Of course he didn’t know how to swim, why would he need to? But he had watched Goody in the water, swimming with strong sure strokes, looking like he belonged there, which, made sense. He was a creature of the water, just like Billy was a creature of the earth the trees the plants. They were different him and Goody. Yet every time they were together they found things they had in common, or differences complementing each other. Billy bit his bottom lip, staring up at the tree crown above him. 

Billy would rather spend time with Goody than anyone similar to himself, and he couldn’t help wondering about that. These feelings he had been having that he didn’t understand, all connected to Goody. What did it all mean? And why did he want to go swimming?

Because thinking about it. He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes. Thinking about it, he would quite like to go swimming with Goody. Wanted to share that with him, just like the music. Just like he shared the secrets he had discovered about the forest, and the things he still hadn't gotten around to telling him about. He wanted to share everything. Wanted to show Goody his tree... And that was another thought that gave him pause, because that was… That was not just a risky thing to do, but also, somehow intimate, and yet he couldn’t understand this burning want and need in his chest to show Goody his soul.

He returned to the pond in the morning, and the next day and the next. Goody played music, and then they spoke and smiled and laughed. They sat closer, to each other now, and every now and again a hand would brush a hand, fingers accidentally touching, and days and days later a shoulder would brush a shoulder, or a thigh against a thigh when Billy sat down at the edge of the pond next to Goody, lowering his legs into the water. And everytime skin brushed skin it felt as if lightning went coursing through Billy’s body, a hot thrill going up his spine, stomach clenching and fluttering, a shortness of breath and warmth spreading from the point of contact.

Almost every time Billy arrived Goody would be sitting at the edge of the pond, but sometimes if Billy arrived extra early, and was quiet as a mouse stepping out into the clearing, he would catch Goody swimming. Early sunlight seeming to catch him and only him, as pale limbs moved through the water with strong and determined movements. Billy would creep forward and lie down on his stomach at the edge of the pond, head pillowed on his arms and he would watch Goody, back of his mind aware of the heat pooling in his stomach, but unsure what it meant. Every morning that he watched, Goody would eventually catch sight of him, smile and swim over to Billy. Standing in the shallow end of the pond he would ask without fail if today was the day Billy would go for a swim with him, and every time Billy would shake his head with a small smile on his lips and say “another day”. Until the morning he didn’t.

“I don’t want to drown.” Billy bit his lip, but didn’t look away from Goody’s blue eyes which widened and he looked… Not surprised, but taken aback, almost horrified.

“That…” Goody started. “No never.” he came closer to the edge. And Billy lifted his head so that they were looking into each others eyes. “I wouldn’t let that happen. That doesn’t happen here. Not anymore.”

Billy raised an eyebrow. Goody closed his eyes and shook his head.

“I can’t stomach it anymore.” He opened his eyes again. “Besides you are—” He lifted his hand as he was speaking, reaching out towards Billy who was unprepared for it, and flinched when the wet fingers brushed his cheek. A brief burst of electricity coursing through him, and then he saw the way Goody’s hand dropped and he lowered his eyes, and Billy’s heart clenched, he hadn’t meant for that to happen.

“—Special,” Goody finished.

“I want–” Billy swallowed. “I want to swim with you.” He watched the small smile return to Goody’s lips. “But I don’t know how.”

“Oh, I can help with that.” Goody said. “If you just come into the water.”

Billy hesitated, and then thought about the joy on Goody’s face when he was in the water, when he was in his rightful element, and Billy sat up. Lowering his legs into the water before slowly lowering himself into the water, at first looking down, but then raising his eyes to catch Goody looking at him. He felt sand underneath his toes, and then dropped all the way to to stand on the sand. The water reaching to just above his abs, cool, but not too cool, but he was distracted by how close he was now standing to Goody. Only an inch between them, their eyes on level with one another, Goody’s breath ghosting across Billy’s face, and he almost shivered.

“Take my hands,” Goody said, holding up his hands in front of him. Billy dragged his hands up slowly through the water, letting it slide between spread fingers, and then up into the air again. He put the palms of his hands against Goody’s, eyes on their hands as their fingers intertwined, twin shocks of lightning seemingly spreading up Billy’s arms, his heart skipping a beat and breath caught in his throat. He looked up at Goody, a strange expression crossing his face before smiling a small close lipped smile.

“Follow me,” Goody said, taking a step backwards, and Billy before thinking took a step forward. Looking down at the water.

“Look at me,” Goody said, and Billy looked up in Goody’s eyes, blue and glittering and a reassuring smile on his lips, and Billy felt this sense of warmth enveloping him much like the water, as Goody took a step backwards, and Billy followed. His world narrowing down to Goody’s face, to his hands, warm and strong grip on Billy’s hands. They walked and it took Billy a moment to realize they were still walking, no longer with sand underneath his feet, and yet he wasn’t sinking any deeper.

“This isn’t swimming,” Billy pointed out. Goody chuckled. Billy looked around them and noticed they were in the middle of the pond. He hadn’t realized, so wrapped up in Goody in front of him.

“True,” Goody said, and smiled. “With some music we could be dancing,” Goody said. Billy raised an eyebrow. He had watched his brethren dance, their dancing were exuberant, nimble feet moving fast over the ground, floating in leaps and bounds, fast twirls and something wild to all the movements. This was nothing like that, and the water would definitely restrain, slowing everything down.

“Not really,” Billy said.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“How are you doing this?”

“That is a secret,” Goody said. Billy wanted to press him on it, because he was curious, but before he could open his mouth, Goody said, “now let’s float.”

It took Billy some time to relax to trust he would float, and at one point Goody put a hand on the small of Billy’s back to steady him, and the way his body had rocked with the surge going through him from that touch alone, had almost resulted in him sinking but Goody had caught him, kept his head above the surface.

Soon enough he figured it out and just relaxed, lying on his back in the water, ears below the surface and the world around them muted and it was… calming, relaxing, restful. He closed his eyes and let the sun warm his face, and he could distantly hear birds singing.

They floated for a while, Billy getting used to the water and that was all they did the first day.

The next day, with instructions from Goody Billy started to get the hang of actual swimming, and it came surprisingly easy to him. And every following day they would go for a swim together and it turned into another thing Billy looked forward to each day.

Days later he arrived at the pond and sat down on the edge and waited until Goody noticed him. He didn’t want to get into the water before making sure Goody would be okay with him being there. A boundary he suspected he had made up all in his own mind, and something Goody wasn’t even aware of Billy doing.

“There you are,” Goody exclaimed and grinned from where he was stopped in the middle of the pond. Billy readied himself for Goody to call out for him to come join him when instead Goody said, “wait there, I’ve got something for you.”

Goody swam towards the other end of the pond and inside Billy’s chest burned curiosity and surprise. Goody came back, one hand behind his back.

“Here,” Goody said. Presenting Billy with a water lily, the purple petals bright in the sunshine, and Billy looked at it surprise before reaching out, stroking a finger along one of the petals, and then took it in both of his cupped hands.

“Thank you,” Billy said, staring at the flower in his hand, a little bewildered by the gesture, and then looked up as Goody heaved himself up and out of the water to sit next to Billy.

“Let me,” Goody said, and held out a hand. Billy gave him the flower again, and bent his head forward, while Goody’s fingers ran through Billy’s hair, and he worked the flower in among the others, on the top of Billy’s head.

“I know it’s not going to last,” Goody said, while he worked. “And I’m sorry about that, I didn’t really think about that when I had the idea. And I know you aren’t big on plants dying needlessly.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Billy said. Neither he nor others of his kind were strangers to the occasional bout of vanity which invariably led to incorporating other flowers in their hair to complement the ones they were born with.

He lifted his head, and looked at Goody, his hands still hovering near Billy’s hair.

“I like the gesture,” he looked down at his reflection in the pond, smiling a little bit, at the crooked way the flower had been inserted among his black locks, and nestled with the other smaller, white flowers. There was something endearing about it. He looked back at Goody, who was biting his bottom lip, but stopped when Billy looked at him. Billy’s gaze lingered on Goody’s red lips, and it took him half a second to shake himself out of it mentally before he met Goody’s eyes.

“Thank you,” he said again.

Goody brushed a strand of Billy’s hair which had gotten free, back behind Billy’s ear, his fingertips soft and gentle, and his hand lingered behind Billy’s ear, and they sat in silence looking at one another, until the loud sound of a fox scream in the distance, which startled them both. Billy flinching a little in surprise, and Goody’s hand dropping away from Billy’s head.

The lily lasted a few days longer than he suspected Goody had expected it to because every day it was still in Billy’s hair he would get a surprised but delighted expression, and he’d brush his fingers over it, in the movement also brushing over Billy’s hair, and Billy was mostly amazed at how okay he was with the complete lack of personal space between them at this point.

Eventually the lily did wilt, lost its bright color and turning a duller shade, even Billy was surprised at how long he had managed to coax it to stay bright and fresh, but in the end he had to untangle it from his hair. He buried the flower at the foot of his tree, and to his surprise, a few days later a different flower started to grow there, a purple viola, growing where it had no business growing, and yet there it was. 

“Surely a coincidence,” Goody said wen Billy told him, but he didn’t sound convinced.

“Yeah,” Billy said, also less than convinced.

Days passed and Billy was getting more and more comfortable about swimming. He would now dive to the bottom of the pond, picking up interesting looking rocks, which he’d line up on the edge of the pond and look at. Occasionally he’d bring the prettiest ones, the ones that had little flecks glittering, or were smooth and rounded, or just curiously shaped, back to his tree. And one or two he would gift to Goody, who always smiled and thanked him.

Billy reached the shallower part of the pond and planting his feet pushed himself up, breaking the surface, and gasping for air. Blinking his eyes cleared and he realized he was now standing right in front of Goody. Only a few inches of water and air separating them. The sun was behind Goody’s head, haloing him, with his hair slicked back, and wet. 

Billy had wet hair hanging in front of his face, which he started to to raise his hand to brush away, when Goody reached out first. 

He brushed away Billy’s wet locks, and Billy… Billy was frozen, short of breath, his heart beating fast, and his skin tingling where Goody’s fingers touched him, a flutter in his stomach.

And then Goody was kissing him.

The thing that had been growing in Billy’s chest burst open, like a blooming flower unfurling its petals inside of Billy. His heart soaring, and he pressed in closer, responding to the kiss, giving himself up to the heavenly feeling of Goody’s soft lips against his own. All around him he heard the whoosh of something like water, and it felt like they were spinning even though he knew they were standing still.

They broke apart, shallow breaths mingling in the inch between them as Goody leaned his forehead against Billy’s, and Billy opened his eyes looking into Goody’s dark blue eyes, his pupils blown wide. Billy tried and failed to calm his rushing heart, and when he saw Goody smile started to smile as well. A wave of happiness crashing over him. He grabbed hold of Goody’s arms to keep himself from toppling over from the overload of feelings. Goody cupped Billy’s face in his hands and leaned in for another kiss. Billy closed his eyes and kissed back as good as he got. Swept along on this intoxicating feeling.

“So that’s what I’ve been feeling,” Billy blurted out the next time they broke apart, his voice a little rough, and he was still short of breath and dizzy from the emotions burning in his chest.

“Love.”

It all made sense in hindsight. All the confusing feelings and emotions, that had swirled in his mind and body. 

Thumbs traced the lines of his cheekbones, and Billy wanted to close his eyes, to give himself over to this feeling of wild abandon and happiness.

“Love, yes,” Goody said, “that’s what this is.” He smiled, that brilliant smile of his and Billy’s knees went weak and he tightened his grip on Goody’s arms. “I love you.” A declaration filled with jubilation, and Billy moved his hands to the back of Goody’s head, pulling him into another kiss.

He didn’t know where this would take him next, what they would do, because all he could think about was how happy he was around Goody, and that all of this kissing was leaving him feeling almost drunk on joy and Goody. He would happily do this for the rest of time.


End file.
